Bristol Cars
had a certain air of inevitability about it and, looking at this machine we've spotted
in the PH classifieds
, you might even be forgiven for wondering how they continued for as long as they did.
Bristols are little known and even less understood, so we thought we'd have a look to see if we could uncover the appeal that had Bristol's customers loyally coming back for the thick-end of 65 years. Are these cars all about dodgy styling, archaic engineering, and eccentric oddball owners, or is there more to them than that? And more to the point, could a sub-£10k 412 ever hope to provide any of the answers...
At best the Zagato-bodied Bristol 412 could be described as 'challenging' to look at, and at worst just plain ugly. Standing at the front of this car I was determined to look long and hard to see if I could find a hidden appeal to its angular looks. Honestly I tried. Zagato must have just taken delivery of a lovely new set of rulers and set-squares the day they penned this thing, and wanted show us all just what they could do with them.
What makes things even worse is that, whereas Bristol themselves were highly-skilled coachbuilders, the 412 bodies were built at Zagato by some begrudging borderline-communist Italians (at a time when Italian bodywork wasn't exactly renowned for its quality) and then shipped to the UK. That the bodies were fashioned from aluminium, and not bargain basement Russian steel (as were the majority of Italian cars at the time) is one saving grace. Another is that the car rolls on Avon Safety Wheels, which were specifically designed to decrease the likelihood of the tyre leaving the rim in the event of a puncture, and are sought-after today.
Not looking too good so far then. But move on from the styling and things start to get a lot more interesting. Under the bonnet is a 400 cubic inch (about 6.6 litres in Roman Catholic) Chrysler V8, bolted to a 727 TorqFlite automatic transmission - both of which can be traced back to the tarmac-shredding Plymouth and Dodge muscle cars of the late Sixties. Want effortless power, reliability, and longevity? No problem. What's more, parts are widely available in the UK for both the motor and the transmission - both of which were mildly tweaked by Bristol for optimum smoothness of operation.
The interior is good news too. Whilst certainly belonging in the luxury category, it has (unlike its high-end contemporaries) an airy, spacious feel to it, and gives the impression that whoever designed and executed the interior space was more in mind of an enthusiastic blast to the south of France and back than a gentle waft through the West End when they did so. Sure it's all leather and wood (ah, the smell of it...), but somehow it encourages you to get on with the driving. Less Gentleman's Club, more Shooting Lodge? It is opulent, but with a distinct lack of pretension, and sitting inside you begin to get the whole idea of a Bristol. Wasn't it Joan Collins who once said: "wealth whispers...?"
Obviously, at this money any Bristol is going to need some love - and this one's been in storage for a while and needs a new cylinder head core plug at least. The good news is that pretty much any part you want is available either from Bristol themselves (they're maintaining a parts service), or through the owners club. The greasy bits aren't too much of a problem - if you've got the cash and the inclination - remember that these things were designed and built to last. Of more concern would be any repair work needed to the aluminium body and/or the enormous frame - which is sturdy enough to make a locomotive blush. With this car, both of those areas are in good fettle. The thing is would you really want to completely restore one? A Bristol was built to be used, so does the idea of a show-standard version without any associated patina not seem a bit wrong? Better perhaps to carry out the necessary work and then use it.
It's in considering renovation work on these cars that their trump card is revealed. You see, they were built to aircraft standards, so their real integrity as machines is beyond reproach. No other manufacturer would reject part after part after part, before one was deemed fit for installation, or keep component suppliers waiting for years before finally approving said component for their assembly line. Oh and Bristol were testing their brakes at 140mph when everyone else was testing theirs from 70. Ugly the 412 may be, but it was a top quality piece of kit.
So, what you potentially have here is a fine example of British engineering and old-money eccentricity. It was one of the best-engineered cars money could buy back in the day, although the company was happy for the average man to dismiss it as simply ugly and dream instead of buying something more 'flash' like a Rolls Royce if he came into money.
But you know what? These cars are cool if for no other reason than that, and the world would be a duller place without them. Given its obvious need of love and attention in a few key areas, I might easily be tempted to see if a bundle of notes would get a proper deal sorted on this one. Best get me fitted-up with some tweed clobber first...
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